I got that question Saturday, Sept. 13, at a party in Cleveland, Ohio. I laughed and denied responsibility, as I always do when I'm accused of meteorological wizardry, but what I should have said is "No, I didn't bring it. I can't escape it."

Hurricane Ike had complicated my Friday departure from New Orleans. The winds were disturbingly high, and near 5:20 a.m., as I prepared to put my items through the airport X-ray machine, the lights went out.

First there was total blackness. Then the dim illumination provided by the airport's back-up power source. After our bodies and our bags were patted down and searched manually, we were eventually called out of the darkness of gate A6 and invited onto the light of the plane.

From my layover in Philadelphia, I watched other travelers watch CNN predict destruction for Galveston, Texas. So this is what it feels like watching a storm approach an American city from far away. There's fascination with the power of the storm and fear for the people in its way. Then my smidgen of shame: It's become my mission to get people to care about Katrina. Could I care as much about Ike?

I imagine that Clevelanders worry about hurricanes about as rarely as we worry about forest fires. But according to The Plain Dealer in Cleveland, Ike's remnants knocked out power to 1.9 million Ohioans. Six people there died.

Sunday evening, the winds in Cleveland were disturbingly high, but the pilot got us off the ground.